


Chronos

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Reaper76 Week 2019 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Apologies, Estrangement, Farewells, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Love, M/M, Memories, Past Relationship(s), Self-Sacrifice, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 02:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17840498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: To the unknowing eye, it looked almost like a hologram, or a collection of LED lights hovering in mid-air and casting an eerie blue glow over the strange, glass-like material of its. However, Jack can see the way it flickers, the images that dance in its depths, and that is why he is here.





	Chronos

**Author's Note:**

> “Time is the longest distance between two places.”  
> ― Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

The writing is on the wall.

    Jack had pretended not to see what was happening around him, absorbing as much of the damage and backlash as he can in his capacity as Strike Commander, wondering how he had even ended up in this position in the first place. He’s protected his people to the best of his ability, which isn’t much, and he knows that many don’t see it like that. _Angela. Ana. Gabriel…._ The list is growing by the day, as is the number of people who have already slipped away, refusing to ignore the writing on the wall. In part that was why he had waited. It had been selfish, but as long as he had people here. The family that had been forged in blood and smoke during Crisis and blossomed during the hard-earned peace that had followed. As long as he’d had that, it had almost been worth the political games, the press tearing strips out of his side, the doubts, the fading trust…the losses.

_I was selfish…_

    It’s no longer bearable. Maybe it never was, and he had been clinging on through sheer stubbornness alone. Gabe had been the one to jokingly remark that, that was one of the reasons they had survived SEP and so many others hadn’t – they had been too damn stubborn. Of course, back then it had been something to laugh about – albeit the giddy, almost hysterical laugh of people who had seen too much, who had endured too much. Now, he can’t even remember the last time he’d smiled let alone laughed, beyond the aching, empty lie that he drums up for the eyes that follow him everywhere. It’s possibly even longer since he’d seen Gabe, once the life and soul of their family, no matter how dire things had become, smile or laugh. Although maybe that’s because he can’t remember the last time he had seen the other man outside of briefings, and tense exchanges in the corridor, the warmth that had seen them through so much burning like ice these days.

   To be honest, he’s not sure about much these days. The ideals that had seen him run off to join the army all those years again lost in the reality of the Crisis and everything that had followed, the stubbornness that Gabe had once admired now turned to desperation. The hope he’d borne in the wake of the Crisis, now a twisted gnarl of despair and guilt that grows with each lie he tells, and breath he takes.

He’s sure of one thing though.

It has to end now.

    Overwatch is teetering on the edge of a precipice – one of his own making, although he knows that there are others guiding it towards that inevitable drop. He’d even suspected Gabriel at one point, something that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth as he stares down at the paperwork on his desk – an order, no a demand, for the Blackwatch Commander to be court-martialled. It’s bait. They want to see how far he has fallen, how far he will let Overwatch fall. If he obeys the order, then he loses the one person he has always protected, the one person that the whole world knows he loves above everything else, and the hungry media will tear him apart from it. _‘Strike Commander uses a scapegoat to escape U.N. Charges’,_ he can see the headlines now, and he huffs a laugh and nearly chokes on it. What’s worse is that he knows that Gabe will believe it.

    However, if he disobeys. If he protects Gabriel again, it will all come crashing down. Overwatch is barely holding up under the accusations and rumours being levied against it, and if he moves, removing what limited support he has still been providing it will crumble beneath their feet. Beyond saving, and maybe that’s not a bad thing. Perhaps it’s time for Overwatch to fall, but not like that because if it tumbles like that, he knows that it will take everyone and everything with it.

_Damned if I do, Damned if I don’t._

    That seems to be the story of his life at the moment, the weight of it almost enough to make him shatter. Or maybe it already has, and that’s why he’s here, staring at the paperwork as he counts down the time in the back of his mind. Because he’s already made up his mind. He’s already decided on a path. A choice that no one but a broken man would make because it reeks of despair even in the privacy of his own mind.

    Yet for all that, his hand is steady as he reaches for the glass of whiskey he had poured himself a few minutes before. The bottle had sat unopened for years, a gift from Ana and Gabriel the first day they’d walked him into the office that not of them had wanted. At the time he’d cursed them, and vowed that he wouldn’t open it until the day he either handed the job to one of them or retired. _Well,_ _I suppose for once I’m keeping my word,_ he thought bitterly, as he glanced at the resignation letter on the screen of the computer waiting to be printed. It would be an empty gesture, and yet there was something fulfilling about seeing it in words, and he knocked back the glass, feeling the burn in his throat, although he knew that the alcohol would have no effect on him.

     Setting the glass back down next to the two untouched glasses, the only witnesses to this moment, he reached out and clicked print, the whirl of the printer almost deafening in the silence of his office. It made a change from the usual chorus of communicator and phone going off constantly, and he wondered how long it would be before someone came to find out why he had cut all communications, banning Athena from letting any calls through. Probably not long, even if they were just out for his blood, and he reached out to take the letter as it came out of the printer. It was short. A simple ‘I quit’ in appropriate military terms, with no explanation or excuse, as they already knew what had led to this, had even guided him towards it.

No, the unexpected was what he was going to do next.

    And now there was a slight waver in his hands as he signed his last document as Strike Commander, feeling some of the weight pressing on him easing as he scrawled his signature. That done, he lifted the order for Gabriel’s court-martial, scanning it one last time, and then ripping it in half, and then half again. He wishes that he had the time to go and throw it in their faces, but he knows that he’s only going to get one shot at his, and he’s not willing to risk that for such a petty reason, no matter how satisfying it might be. Instead, he piles the pieces at the bottom of his resignation letter, making sure that the message is clear for whoever is eventually sent to find him and then he rises.

     He ignores the Strike-Commander’s coat draped over the back of the chair, having no intention of wearing it again. He’d never liked it, missing the comfort and ambiguity of his old uniform. Which is what he’s wearing now, retrieved from the box under their…his bed, where he had kept it folded away over the years. Gabriel had teased him for being sentimental about it, and maybe he was, but as he glanced down at the sun-faded camo that was patched in numerous places, and the faded but still functional black, body armour he felt more like himself that he had for years. He had hidden it beneath the coat that morning, but there was no more hiding, and he lifted his head, standing tall as he left his office for the last time.

*

There’s one more stop for him to make.

    He’s not sure that he won’t wind up with a shotgun in his face, and he knows for sure that he’s not welcome, and yet he still finds his feet following the once familiar, backstairs route down to the Blackwatch offices. These corridors and stairs are mostly unused, although he’s not naïve to believe there are no eyes on him, although he’s not sure who they belong to down here – Petras and his minions? Those who are working to bring down Overwatch? Or Gabriel and his people? It doesn’t really matter he supposes, stomach twisting as he realises that for all intents and purpose every one of those groups can be considered enemies right now and for half a second, he falters.

_What am I doing?_

     He trusts Gabriel even now. Probably too much, especially now that he has learned the hard way that trust which had been enough to see them through the Crisis, means nothing in the face of everything looming around them. Now, it’s lies and half-truths, and survival, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that it would make sense for there to be a target on his back. Even from those he once calls family, because it might be the only way for them to survive this mess. Ironically, that’s what gets him moving, because there’s nothing to lose anymore, even his plan – if it can even be called that – is only worth it if it works, and the likelihood of it succeeding is low, to say the least.

    That doesn’t silence his doubts though, even as he presses on, as his thoughts turn to Gabriel. As always there’s an ache when he thinks about the other man, loneliness and pain wrapping themselves around his heart. There had been anger at first, but that’s gone because while it had taken him a while to understand, he knows that Gabriel had to pull away. That it was the only way for him to survive, and maybe it’s selfish for him to go see him now. Especially when he has no idea if the others will remember any of this, or if they’ll remember him, or what will happen if he fails. Maybe, it would be better to just go.

To walk away and let them live.

    That thought stops him in his tracks, and there is a fresh edge to the ache in his heart as he lowers his head. _Gabriel. Gabe…is it wrong to want to have one last moment?_ He’s not even answered his own question before he’s turning away, hands clenching at his side. _Yes._ The answer comes sharply in the back of his mind, a painful mix of Ana and Gabe’s voice raised in irritation on any of the numerous occasions when he’d thrown himself headlong into danger, and the noise he makes is halfway between a groan and a laugh at the fact.

“Morrison?” The sharp voice drags him painfully back into the present because while he knows the voice better than his own, it lacks the warmth that Gabriel had never been able to hide even when irritated with him. Instead, it lashes out like a whip, all burning anger, and cold…something, that he doesn’t want to put a name to, and he knows that the other man will have seen the flinch as he comes to a halt.

“Reyes,” he murmurs, the weight of the distance between given voice in the formal address and he shakes his head as he turns around, gathering what courage he has left. “Gabriel.” It hurts how familiar and yet foreign the name feels on his tongue now, and there’s scant comfort when he sees the other man’s eyes widen for a moment. It’s the only sign of softening he gets because Gabriel is stood on the next landing, scowling and watching him like a hawk. It’s the way he looks at enemies, and Jack has to fight not to flinch again.

“What do you want?” Gabriel had never been the most patient, and Jack finds comfort in the fact that hasn’t changed, even as he tries to find the words to reply. Why had he come here? To say farewell? For absolution? He’s not sure that he knows, or that Gabriel would even have the answer for him if he did have the words, but something must show in his expression because the scowl fades for the first time in months as the other man begins to climb the stairs. It’s almost like the first day they’d met, the already hardened SEP recruit staring down his new ‘partner’, and slowly seeing past the pristine exterior. Jack can see the sharp eyes taking in the detail of his uniform, startled by the pang of wistfulness in the dark eyes, one of Gabriel’s eyebrows raising as he takes in the lack of coat, and his voice is quiet as he asks. “Jack? What is going on?”

“I…” Jack’s heart constricts painfully at hearing that beloved voice saying his name for the first time in months. _I shouldn’t be here;_ the realisation hits him full force and his shoulders slump. “I…” What can he say? I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to face up to what is happening? To hear the words, you have been saying for months? I’m sorry… He could say them all a hundred times until he was blue in the face and they wouldn’t mean anything, not now, with everything balancing on a knife-edge and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here.”

“Jack?” If anything, that seems to have caught Gabriel’s attention, because he’s taking the stairs two at a time now, concern bleeding through and Jack backs up, shaking his head again.

“Don’t…” It comes out a lot softer than he had intended, and he’s not surprised when Gabriel ignores him, quickly reaching his landing and striding towards him, and he wants to turn and flee but he can’t. Even now, with everything teetering he’s too selfish, and instead, he reaches out, fingers brushing against Gabriel’s chest before he finds his resolve again, flattening his hand and holding the other man at bay. _I hope that one day if you can even remember this or me, you will be able to forgive me,_ he thinks. Trying not to think about all the times they had stood like this – a hand on each other’s heart to reassure themselves that they were alive, heart beating strongly beneath searching fingers, as he lifts his head and meets Gabriel’s gaze. “I love you.” The words are a whisper, a prayer that he has thought countless times since the day he’d woken to an empty room, but never stopped thinking or feeling, and he almost fancies that he can see an echo of the same emotion in Gabriel’s eyes. “I just wanted you to know that.”

    He’s not sure whether it’s courage or desperation that propels him forward, breaking the distance that had built up between them and pressing his lips to Gabe’s. It’s nothing like the tender kisses of their best years, or the clumsy, hurried kisses during the Crisis, or even the tentative kisses of their SEP days… but for a moment it feels like coming home, as Gabriel responds, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, and for a blissful moment Jack lets himself forget about everything – the past, his desperate plan, and what the future might hold for the man in his arms.

“Jack…?” Gabriel is the first to pull back, but he’s still got an arm around Jack, and he’s frowning again, and Jack swallows.

“I love you,” he repeats. “I want you to know that, and to remember it even if…” He knows that he’s said too much when Gabriel’s gaze sharpened, and fingers are biting into his shoulders, and he’s cursing up a storm in his head as he pulls back.

“If? If what, Jack?” There’s a brief tussle, as for all their distance over the last few months, Gabriel is reluctant to let him go now. Usually, they would be well matched, but Jack is desperate, and he allows that to bleed through as he wrenches himself free with a whispered apology, only just sliding out of reach as the other man immediately lunges to stop him. He knows that if it comes down to a proper struggle, he might not come out on top, and he can’t afford to let that happen here. So he dances out of reach, something raw and aching rising in his throat as he glances at Gabriel and sees for the first time in ages the man who had been by his side through SEP, the Crisis and the rise of Overwatch and there’s a burning in his eyes now.

“I’m sorry.” He bolts before the words are even out of his mouth, and he hears the cursing behind him, followed by hurried footsteps as Gabriel gives chase. However, he’s always been faster, and that small head start gives him an edge, even with the stairs, as he takes them two at a time, highly aware of the man behind him.

_I shouldn’t have come…_

    It’s a mantra now, urging him forward, and yet despite everything and no matter how selfish it might be, he can’t bring himself to genuinely regret it, because for a moment he’d had Gabriel in his arms again.

    He almost takes the door off its hinges as he bursts through it onto the floor where Winston’s labs are, and his entrance has drawn a lot of attention, as has his old uniform and the sight of Gabriel following him. “Athena, lock down the lab as soon as I’m inside!” He bellows as he darts between agents and scientists, making a beeline for the silver door at the end of the corridor, his world narrowing down to his goal, and the rapid beat of feet on the ground behind him,

“JACK STOP THIS!” Gabriel is shouting now, and Jack wonders if he’s started to join the dots, but he can’t risk looking back, knowing that if he falters the other man will be on him, and everything will fall apart. “JACK!” Heart pounding and aching in equal measure, Jack reaches the door, which gushes open at his approach and whispers a fervent prayer of thanks to the A.I. his only ally in this, and he lunges through the opening, chest heaving as he spins around, and for a split second his gaze meets Gabriel.

     There’s a pause – worry, concern and myriad other emotions passing between them, and Jack sees the moment Gabriel’s eyes pass beyond him to the carefully contained swirl of blue in the middle of the lab, realisation sweeping across his face, with dawning horror on its heels. “JACK! STOP!” There’s a beep, and the door slides shut just as Gabriel reaches it, and the metal shudders under the impact of fists, a muffled thump telling him that the other man is all but throwing himself at him, and Jack takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t have long. The door is reinforced, but he knows Gabriel, and he doubts that there is a door that can hold up to his SEP-enhanced strength when he’s like this.

 _I’m sorry, Gabe,_ he thinks as he turns away to study the secret that had become the centre of his crazy, desperate hope. To the unknowing eye, it looked almost like a hologram, or a collection of LED lights hovering in mid-air and casting an eerie blue glow over the strange, glass-like material of its. However, Jack can see the way it flickers, the images that dance in its depths, and that is why he is here. He had been one of the ones to think that Winston was crazy to believe that he could adapt what they had learned from Lena’s misadventure with the jet and the subsequent development of her chronal accelerator. Yet here he was, about to risk everything on a prayer, and the hope that his friend knew what he was doing. There had been experiments, enough to prove that the rift for lack of a better term went elsewhere…or rather else-when, but not enough to say if it could be controlled, or whether a human could survive it.

It was a crazy, desperate plan and it was all he had.

    He didn’t hesitate as he moved to the control panel that maintained the container, overriding the commands with steady fingers, even as he glanced towards the door once more. Gabriel was still shouting, anger and alarm bleeding through as he alternated between questions, curses and pleas, and there were already deep dents in the metal, and he sped up his efforts. _Gabriel, if this works, I can spare you all this. You won’t lose Ana or have to dive into the darkness just to find a way to survive. If I can do that, then all this will be worth it…_ There’s a hiss as the container opens, and alarms begin to blare through the lab, and he knows that it won’t be long before everyone with a stake in the fall of Overwatch will descend. He immediately heads for the rift, checking his sidearm is still there and loaded as he moves, knowing that he will only get one shot at this on the other end.

    The hairs on his arms are standing on end as he approaches, swallowing as he feels the power of it pulsating in the air, a hum that seems to settle under his skin. It’s swirling now, threads of light stretching out towards him as though it senses his approach and he closes his eyes. In his mind, he focuses on the memory of a narrow two-bunk room, and a simple metal door with a sign that reads ’76 - Morrison’ and ’24- Reyes’. With a younger Gabriel standing in front of him and studying him with a mixture of suspicion and interest, and he takes a deep breath as he walks into the rift, feeling it rushing forward to embrace him.

_Please, let this work._

    It burns and freezes at once as it wraps around him, and then he’s falling, as somewhere behind him the lab door finally falls under Gabriel’s desperate assault. And somewhere in the distance, Jack fancies that he can here Gabriel screaming his name as everything fades to blue.

_As, somewhere in a different time, a gun fires._

 


End file.
